The greatest art provides solace.
The face of the Madonna.
The release of the Requiem.
The call to fight against the Dying of the Light.
Great artists know this.
They create their own sanctuaries.
They invite the rest of us to shelter with them
In sacred places with painted ceilings and soaring choruses.
We cannot remain there long.
We must face the ugly.
We must overcome the dull.
But we can visit.
We can tarry.
We can pray.
And maybe if we leave an offering
Maybe if we show some respect
More creators will come forward
And perform magic instead of tricks.
I miss complexity.
I miss depth.
I miss epics and symphonies,
Craftsmanship and composition.
So let the pop songs bubble.
Let the photographs froth.
Somewhere in the depths
A creator rests
Waiting until the world
Needs something real to cling to
When tissue thin poetry will not suffice.
Within each of us there is strength.
We must find it and harness it
To do the work of real men and women
When this fantasy of triviality ends.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I really like this! You have hit hard and pulled no punches! A definite ten and it goes on my favorites list!